


Patchwork

by Broken_Clover



Category: Guilty Gear
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Baiken does care sometimes, Emotional Constipation, Gift Fic, Mild Blood, Other, Stitches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:33:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27987000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broken_Clover/pseuds/Broken_Clover
Summary: Intimacy comes in many forms (After-action patch-up with Anji and Baiken)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Patchwork

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rex101111](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rex101111/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Rex! I know this isn't much but I hope you still like it! These two have such an interesting dynamic.

Baiken was by far the toughest person Anji had ever met, but that didn’t mean she was invulnerable.

On the contrary, part of what made her so tough was the fact that she somehow always managed to shake off whatever happened. It took a lot to take Baiken down and _keep_ her down in a fight, and Anji knew from experience that if you knocked the samurai over and though that was enough, it was one of the best ways to end up with a katana handle-deep in your ribs.

But still, it didn’t mean she wasn’t immune to getting banged up. The traveler’s lifestyle was bare-bones and far from cushy, and the both of them weren’t strangers to ending the night by limping back to whatever temporary hole they’d made use of for a few days to patch themselves up. It was never really an ideal scenario, but in an odd way, it was intimate; commiserating over future bruises. Taking turns bandaging one another in places they couldn’t manage on their own, chiding each other for managing to have gotten hit in the first place, usually falling into an exhausted heap not long after it was over. 

“Fuckin jackass, thinking a _single_ Black-Tech weapon would’ve made him a better fighter. Sure as hell didn’t make him stab-proof, dumb sonuva-”

“I know, Baiken, I know.” Anji replied in a low, patient tone, trying to keep their respective weights balanced enough so that they could make it to the top of the stairs without crashing all the way back down. He’d considered trying to find a doctor to look them over, but that was always a gamble with Baiken, especially with the foul moods that tended to arise whenever a job went less smoothly than expected.

After far too many near-misses, they all but collapsed on their room’s floor in a heap. Anji had no idea how he’d managed to even get the key in the lock with how his free hand was shaking, but he was too tired to give much of a damn.

“Sorry about the rough landing.” Even with what little energy he had, Anji still managed a halfhearted chuckle. He dragged himself up and grabbed for the nearest cabinet.

“I’m not made of glass, you dumbfuck. I’m not gonna shatter from getting knocked over.” Likewise, while she was paler than normal and sporting a torrent of blood from her nose, Baiken still had enough energy to look pissed off as she fumbled for her pipe.

After digging around, the dancer came back with an armful of medical supplies, which he dumped on the floor in between them. Letting out a tired sigh, he grabbed a wheel of gauze from the mess. “Yes, yes, I know. Let’s just get ourselves patched up before we pass out for fifteen hours.”

“Let’s just get this shit over with.”

He handed over a pack of bandages. “Whatever you say.”

Anji knew better than to try and attempt a real conversation with Baiken just yet, so he got to work on his own injuries. He was almost hesitant to go anywhere near the gouge on his thigh, based on the jagged-edged weapon that had made it. Still, he pressed a clean wad against it to soak up the blood, before moving onto the other, smaller cuts that were easy to clean up and slap a covering on.

The atmosphere gradually smoothed over into something almost relaxed. It wasn’t exactly calm, considering how they both were still bleeding and exhausted, but the adrenaline had started to wear off, and the threat of combat was long gone.

“For a crime lord, he sure as hell couldn’t cut all that deep, eh?” Cautiously, Anji tried for conversation. “I mean, if he only managed to nick _me_ , he must’ve missed _you_ entirely!”

He glanced off to the side to check in on his companion. Baiken moved with the haste of someone who didn’t enjoy what they were doing but also didn’t want anyone else to step in and do it for them. She didn’t even glance up as Anji was looking over her shoulder, too busy roughly patting at a half-clotted cut.

“Everything alright there, Baiken?” 

“Sure. Piss off.”

“Hey, you know I didn’t mean anything by it.” He scooted closer. A smear of vivid red made his heart speed up for a moment, but Baiken wasn’t secretly cradling a stab wound to the chest. Rather, there _was_ an unattended slice, and certainly not superficial, but Anji realized it was located on her forearm, just out of range where her hand would be able to bend back on itself to reach. “Ah! Well, you certainly can’t patch up a wound there!”

Baiken’s lip twitched. “Why, do you think I’m helpless?”

Though most people would have immediately reeled back at that, apologizing profusely, Anji merely smiled. “Because you can’t clean out a cut with a steel mace.” More than almost anything in the world, Baiken hated being pitied.

With a resigned grumble, she extended her arm out for Anji to clean. “Fine.”

She didn’t even flinch as he wiped at the cut, smudging away at the blood beading at the edges. The two of them were used to pain, but Baiken was on an entire other level. He wasn’t sure if he found it impressive or frightening (then again, that seemed to be Baiken in a nutshell, didn’t it?)

“I could have figured it out myself, y’know.”

“Probably.” Anji nodded, wrapping a bandage around the slice and tearing it off from the rest of the reel. “You’re the only person I know who could figure out how to decapitate a man with a rusty butter knife. But now you don’t have to worry about figuring it out before you pass out in a puddle on the floor.”

Even with him holding her one arm in place, Anji wasn’t immune to her backlash, which in this case came in the form of her lifting a leg and not-so-gently kicking him in the ribs.

“Fuck you.”

“Khh- guess I deserve that.” He tried to look more like he was rubbing the soreness away than clutching a wound in agony. Then again, knowing Baiken, she could tell. Anji took a moment to breathe before finishing up. “What say we skip the rest of fight practice and make tea instead?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” As soon as her arm was free, she reached for the pipe again. “We even have any leaves left?”

“Enough for a pot.” Just barely, but she didn’t need to know. 

Maybe his body knew to instinctively hesitate, but Anji was still confused when his efforts to grab at the bed and pull himself up didn’t go especially smoothly. It was a long enough few seconds that Baiken managed to notice.

“Damn, missed a spot.” She gestured at his still-bleeding leg with the end of her pipe. “Should get on that before you pass out in a puddle on the floor.”

“Ha ha ha.” He grumbled back at her smirk, and tried to stand up again. “It’s fine. It’s just a superficial cut, it’ll scab over and I’ll wipe it off in a minute-”

Anji managed not to shout, but the muffled grunt and sharp inhale was enough of a giveaway before he sank down against the bed, gripping the bedsheet with white knuckles. Shit, why did it feel like he was being stabbed all over again?

A rough grip suddenly grabbed his shoulder. “Mito. You gonna pass out?”

Despite how much of a display he’d already made, Anji was stubborn enough to force a smile at his companion. “I’m fine, Baiken. I just tripped over my own feet. I’m fine-”

“Don’t be a fucking martyr, you sanctimonious fuckwit.” She snarled back. “I’m not gonna lose you and all the information you’ve got because you wanted to be cool.”

“How touching.” Well, he definitely wasn’t going to manage standing up, but he was still too stubborn to sit back down, so Anji settled for staying where he was, half-slumped over the side of the bed and probably spilling blood all over the place.

Baiken, meanwhile, remained unimpressed. “Anji, give me one good reason you haven’t taped yourself up yet. One single reason.”

“One reason?” He reluctantly answered. “H-heh, well, you know…” His voice managed to crack, and he cringed at the sound. “As much as we do this, it’s always a little hard sewing yourself up, y’know? Making yourself do it.”

Baiken stared at him like he’d suddenly sprouted wings. Actually- no, because that would mean he would be a Gear, meaning that Baiken would have immediately looked pissed off and reached for her sword. She only looked incredulous, and even then it was only momentary before she rolled her eyes.

“Fuckin’ hell, and just when I think you get get more annoying.” Despite that, she grabbed the spool of thread. “Hold still, you big baby, I’ll do it for you.”

“You don’t have to-” But before he could protest, Baiken had yanked him back down to the floor. Once she’d taken an extra moment to make sure he wasn’t planning on scurrying off, she put the needle between her teeth and somehow managed to thread it one-handed. “Baiken, I don’t need you to-”

He’d felt much worse, but he still made a little startled squeak of pain when she first stabbed him without hesitation. Once it was actually in him, the sight was a lot less unsettling. Then again, maybe it was just because it was someone else, so then they didn’t hesitate. Anji had taken his fair share of hits, but something about actively harming himself, even if for something like this, still made him hesitate. 

Baiken’s eye flicked up in between stitches. “Seriously, you gonna pass out on me?”

“N-no, but-” he paused, flinching at another stab. “What’s gotten into you, anyway? Not used to having you patch me up.”

“Because if you don’t close up the big wounds, they get infected, and then I’ll either have to cut your damn leg off to get you to stop bitching about it, or I’ll be stuck dragging your dopey ass around when you get a fever.”

He managed to smile at that. “Mmm, well the latter sounds quite nice, actually. I could get used to having you wait on me like that, when I’m so fragile and helpless- ow!”

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare.” Baiken jabbed his leg not-too-carefully. “Don’t joke about that. And don’t go pissing off the person who has a needle in your leg, dumbass. I know how to make this leave an ugly scar.”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Anji sheepishly rubbed at his neck as the edges of the wound pulled together. “Damn, for a moment I almost thought you were worried about me.”

“Yeah, don’t go thinking that this is gonna become a regular thing, got it?” The thread was knotted up, and Baiken cut the string with her teeth. “If you manage to pop these, I’m not stitching you back up.”

He didn’t have the gall to be disappointed. Partly due to the fact that, for Baiken, this was her being kind. He didn’t need to push his luck and end up needing more stitches elsewhere.

He tried to find a way to turn over and stand up. “Almost forgot the tea, I’ll go get the pot-”

As soon as he tried to push himself up, Baiken shoved him back down. “The fuck did I just say? I thought you were supposed to be the good listener here.”

“What?”

She nudged some of the supplies aside with a foot and made her way towards the meager pile of belongings that they shared. “I told you, I’m not sewing you back up if you rip them out. So sit your ass down.”

“But you said you wanted tea?”

“Yeah.” Baiken gave him that sardonic little smile again as she held the teapot’s handle. “You think I’m too stupid to manage making _tea?”_

Oh. It wasn’t that she was pissed off at him (though he certainly wasn’t unused to it). It was Baiken’s way of saying, in so few words, that she could handle things for now.

Hesitantly, he slumped back against the bed and let out a creaky sigh, feeling some of the tension in his shoulders fade. Baiken had no sharp words to throw over her shoulder at him, that he was annoying her and needed to shut up. He caught her brow crease in frustration at the sight of the nearly-empty tea tin, but she merely grumbled and dumped the last of it out into the pot. When she glanced over at him, it felt less incriminating and more like a brief check to make sure he hadn’t moved, before going back to boiling water.

Baiken wasn’t an affectionate person. That felt a bit like stating the obvious. She was easy to anger, more abrasive than sandpaper, and would likely rather pull a tooth out by hand than say ‘sorry.’ But that didn’t mean she was heartless, either. Difficult to read, yes, but hardly heartless.

Besides, Anji knew from experience that there were a lot of ways to show someone you cared. Even if it wasn’t always obvious.


End file.
